Once decided, Severus said in an even tone, "I have an additional list of rules for you. Your behavior at meal times has not gone unnoticed, even by those of other Houses. I require all Slytherins to maintain proper decorum, especially when in such a milieu." And then he waited.
There was quite a long pause before Potter lifted his head. His jaw was set in a determined line that Severus had to admire. "Yes, sir. Prefect Flint mentioned the problem to me earlier."
"Good. See that you incorporate these rules, effective immediately." Severus handed over the parchment, though he nearly took it back when he saw how badly the boy's hand was shaking.
"Yes, sir."
Still trying to provoke a response, Severus curled his lip slightly. "You have not read them as yet, Potter. Do so now, that I may answer any questions you have."
He watched as the boy read over the list. Miss Torrance's script was easy to decipher, but Severus had detected Mr. Flint's more proletarian efforts in there as well. The items included such rules as "Don't grab food off of platters, use the spoons and forks provided," and "Chew with your mouth closed, as watching partly digested food swishing around inside your gob is disgusting," and "Don't wipe your mouth on your sleeve or any other part of your robes." Potter's face paled as he read through the list, then reddened once more, and his hands were shaking even harder when he had finished.
Expecting an explosion of some kind from James' son, Severus maintained his quiet tone and said, "Do I need to explain any of these rules to you, Potter?"
The boy squeezed his eyes shut as his face slowly adopted that blank mask. Severus waited, fascinated, until the boy had gathered his emotions well in hand and viciously suppressed them before he finally caught his eye. The despair and shame in the depths of those green eyes told him more than he wanted to know about how right Poppy's suspicions probably were. But he was amazed, yet again, when the boy spoke distinctly, with no hint of the pain lurking just below the surface. "No, sir. They are quite clear."
Severus held Potter's gaze for a long moment and had to fight to keep from sating his curiosity and Legilimizing the boy on the spot. It would do neither of them any good at this juncture. But he would get the boy's story one way or another. There was more than one way to skin a Kneazle. Finally, he gave Potter a tiny nod. "Very well. Dismissed."
Gathering his things quickly, Potter fled his presence, and Severus could scarcely blame him. It was well past midnight before he returned to his quarters, and he could not remember much from the essays he'd graded . . . which was probably just as well.
No alarms went off that night, thank Merlin -- he would not have been responsible for his temper if they had -- and he woke more refreshed than he'd been since before September 1st. During breakfast, he watched as Potter meticulously and scrupulously followed the new rules, but the boy held himself rather more rigidly than he had at previous meals. Next to him, young Malfoy kept giving him odd looks as he single handedly carried the weight of conversation between them, and Severus did not miss the frankly appraising looks from Nott.
As the owl post arrived, Severus watched the Brat receive his most recent missive. Potter read the order to present himself to Madam Pomfrey for a full work-up and paled, then tucked the parchment into his pocket. Unlike yesterday, he did not immediately leave for the Infirmary, instead pouring himself more juice. Just as well, if he was as dehydrated as Poppy claimed. But when he stayed through the rest of the meal, waiting until his year mates were done so they could go to their first class together, Severus scowled. Why had the Brat chosen now to cease being obedient?
Still aggravated hours later, when he heard from Poppy that Potter had not yet returned to see her, Severus sent another note at lunch time, assigning the boy yet another detention for that night. At this rate, he would have the Brat every night for the whole term! The very idea made him ill.
At the Slytherin table, the Brat clutched the newest note in a white knuckled hand, and turned a scorching glare on the Head Table, specifically on Severus. Some backbone, at last! But Severus merely lifted his eyebrows in response.
Potter's eyes narrowed, and he flicked a glance down the table, toward the Headmaster, or maybe Hagrid, and suddenly clutched at his scar as the color drained from his face. Frowning deeply, Severus observed the boy as both Malfoy and Nott leaned in solicitously and the Brat waved them off. The pain must have faded quickly, for a moment later, Potter had removed his hand and flushed with embarrassment -- likely for making a spectacle of himself again -- and gone back to his meal, though he merely poked at his food instead of actually eating anything more.
Suppressing a sigh, Severus ignored the stuttering Professor Quirrell beside him and swept from the Great Hall. Before his next class arrived, he sent a second letter to the Dursleys and jotted a few notes in the files he kept on each of his students. The rest of the day passed more quickly than he would have liked, given what he had facing him after dinner, though his first seventh year NEWT class took some of the edge off.
When Potter arrived, promptly as always, he let the boy sit and fret in front of him again, while he finished marking the last of his summer assignments.
When he put his quill down, he observed the boy for another minute, taking in the mulish expression, and the tightness of the narrow shoulders. "Have you been to the Infirmary, Potter?"
"Yes, sir," came the response, a bit sullen in his estimation.
"Today?"
The boy's head came up and there was no doubt of the insubordination flaring in those green eyes. "No, sir."
Right. Severus stood. "Then we shall make the trip now. Let's go."
Eyes widening, Potter made no move to rise, but slid as far away as he could while still remaining on the chair. "No, sir."
"Excuse me?"
"I . . . I said, no, sir. I don't need a, what you call it, a work up? I'm fine. Really."
"Potter." Severus set his expression in stone. "Get up this instant; I will not brook your insolence. As your Head of House, I will decide how you serve your detentions, and this time, it will be in the Infirmary." He paused and then continued in his silkiest tone, the one that sent even some of his colleagues into paroxysms of fear. "Don't make me drag you through the halls."
The boy swallowed, and glanced at the door as if weighing his options. They were, admittedly, few. Under the pretense of moving things along, Severus took a step towards him, lifting a hand as if to grab his collar, and the boy jumped from his seat. Potter's hands went up as if in supplication and he sprinted for the door. "All right, all right. I'm sorry . . ."
Severus followed him out, ready to grab him if the boy made a break for it, and they made their way to Pomfrey's domain.
TBC . . .
More A/N: Next chapter starts where this one leaves off, rather than backing up at all.
Thank you, to my beta for this chapter, Miri, for encouraging me in the idea that it is not either too soon for Snape to figure out what's going on with Harry, and to damn well do something about it whether he likes the kid or not. Thanks also, to each of my readers and reviewers and to all those who are both! Your support is wondrously cool and tasty, like an orange creamsicle on a summer's day. Hugs to all.
*Chapter 7*: Chapter 7
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 7
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.
Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.
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Previously:
Severus followed him out, ready to grab him if the boy made a break for it, and they made their way to Pomfrey's domain.